


Multitudes

by BonesOfBirdWings



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, BAMF Kirk, Gen, M/M, The Voices are Real!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesOfBirdWings/pseuds/BonesOfBirdWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James T. Kirk has been an important feature in thousands of universes - Jim Kirk knows this very well. After all, Jim has lived and died a thousand times, even if he is only technically twenty-two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sing Myself

**Author's Note:**

> This turned into a series of oneshots... Oh well.
> 
> Please comment if you liked it (or if you didn't, whatever)!

**Multitudes**

 

_Do I contradict myself?_  
Very well then I contradict myself,   
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)  

_~ Walt Whitman_

 

Jim Kirk is only twenty-two, but he feels ancient. He has lived and died a thousand times, has met a million people, has explored a hundred new planets. He has been a farmer, a professor, an engineer, a criminal, a detective, a Starfleet officer. He has loved, both men and women, Vulcans and Andorians and Orions and humans, and each precious name is scrawled across his heart in blood-red ink. He has hated, for wanton destruction and deaths that have not happened ( _might never happen_ ) in this universe.

 

He has never told anyone about the lives inside his head, the James T. Kirks that are not him, but might as well be. They have lived in different worlds and different times ( _some better, but others worse_ ), but he knows the nuances of their characters as well as his own name. ( _Not that he’d forget that – there are thousands of Jim Kirks in his brain._ )

 

He’s not quite sure where he fits in. There’s not much left to do ( _and so he drifts_ ). James T. Kirk has been a criminal and hero, and has even lived several lives of concentrated mediocrity ( _there’s not even failure left untouched, and that’s more bitter than it should be_ ). Jim doesn’t know if he wants to even try to match the feats of the other James Kirks. He had tried, on Tarsus IV, armed with the knowledge of hundreds of plans, the circumstances of thousands of deaths, but he had forgotten that pure chance rules all universes equally, and his group of children was mowed down by a squadron of soldiers that had never been in that particular cave before ( _stupid stupid stupid, and others paid in blood_ ). By a cruel twist of fate, Jim survived. It was the first time in this existence that he wanted to die. It has not been the last.

 

He doesn’t know why he’s been cursed with this useless, paralyzing knowledge of other Kirks. Perhaps it has something to do with the circumstances of his birth. The lightning storm could have given off some mysterious radiation or something; Jim can’t find a scientific consensus on the nature of the storm that appeared in space just before his father died ( _he would have done better, would have scanned the anomaly even in the midst of destruction, because he had won Nobel Prizes for his work in astrophysics_ ). Sometimes, he thinks that he’s simply insane ( _Dissociative Identity Disorder, he’d learned all about it while getting his MD for psychiatry_ ), but then he’ll find a familiar face that he shouldn’t have recognized, and he will have to confront, yet again, the unpleasant truth ( _that he’s not unique, and can’t even fix his predecessors’ mistakes_ ).

 

So Jim moves through his life with the grace of a dancer ( _he learned from an Andorian and the stage called to him. Died of venereal disease at 35_ ), speaks with the tongue of a linguist ( _Klingons had killed his father and his mother lived on Vulcan, so it made sense to learn. Died of a failing heart at 141_ ), and strides with the confidence of a starship captain ( _Enterprise, Farragut, Reliant; it seems that James T. Kirk is drawn to space_ ). But the alcoholism, the brawling – they are all his own. ( _Self-destruction isn’t supposed to feel this rewarding._ )


	2. As Good Belongs to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of Multitudes. I'll post the third tomorrow, and then I'll be caught up with my fanfiction account.

When Vulcan dies, Jim is silent. He cannot move, cannot think. This planet was home ( _to some James T. Kirks_ ), and its destruction rocks him to his foundations. He cannot feel the deaths, like telepathic Vulcans can, but he can feel the sharp, biting pain of a hundred hearts losing their home.

 

This has never happened before, not to any Kirk, and Jim has forgotten what it feels like to be surprised ( _in this life_ ). The knowledge of thousands of pasts makes any probable event seem like preordained future ( _and that is why the obscure Boraalan religion, with its seers and talk of fate, is the only one Jim has ever considered true_ ), but Vulcan’s destruction… the event is so laughably _improbable_ that Jim has to choke down the hysterical laughter that bubbles in his throat.

 

So when Spock orders a rendezvous with the scraps of the fleet ( _a useless action, when they could strike, viciously, and avenge in one glorious, bloody moment_ ), Jim understands, he really does. He’s felt that paralyzing fear ( _more than Spock, emotionally-stunted Spock, ever has_ ) and knows that creeping certainty that the few people he’s managed to save will disappear in a cascade of atoms or will gasp for breath as their eyes fade to milky white ( _he knows death_ ).

 

He finds it ironic that a Vulcan ( _with their lofty talk of logic and stoicism_ ) is making worse snap-second decisions than an “emotional” James T. Kirk ever did. ( _But then, James T. Kirks are all similar in this: they know things with gut-wrenching certainty, and a few more moments will never change the answer._ ) He also finds it somewhat ironic that he is being jettisoned from the ship that he has captained in a multitude of lives ( _Mutiny! a part of him cries_ ).

 

And it is bitterly, terribly ironic that in this senseless, purposeless life, Jim encounters the definite proof ( _that is useless to him, burdened as he is with the minds of thousands_ ) of other universes. This Spock is different than his, but that’s not exactly a surprise. Jim knows ( _oh, how he knows!_ ) that a few minute differences can have enormous impact on the fate of entire worlds. He doesn’t let Spock meld with him ( _would the Vulcan be able to handle all of the memories? Jim doesn’t think so._ ), but he thinks that he can pick out the James T. Kirk of whom this Spock lovingly speaks ( _did he really die under a fallen bridge?_ ).

 

He doesn’t refute Spock’s statement that he belongs on the Enterprise, because truthfully, James T. Kirk does seem to end up serving on the Enterprise fairly often. He also doesn’t contest that Spock and he are meant to be comrades-in-arms ( _although he does remember those few lives where Spock and he opposed each other bitterly_ ). Who knows what will happen in this life? Certainly, fate hasn’t been too kind to him yet, but meeting up with Scotty ( _who’s a genius in any universe_ ) is a unexpected boon, and so perhaps his luck is looking up.

 

Perhaps, he thinks, as Scotty emerges from the water conduit, dripping, coughing, and shining with life, he could make something of this existence after all.


	3. To Cease Not 'Til Death

Really, it wasn’t a very fair battle. Nero is devious and canny, and he would have been nigh impossible, with his advanced technology and knowledge of Starfleet history, for one James T. Kirk to defeat. But Jim is no ordinary man ( _he is hundreds of men, each unique in their own extraordinary ways_ ) and Nero cannot compete against a crew of James T. Kirks.

 

It is laughably, stupidly easy to get into the Romulan ship. Scotty and Spock are their own brands of genius, and they make it out of there with minimal injuries. Most of the injuries are Jim’s, but then, he’s suffered far greater pain than a bruised throat ( _death is always far from painless_ ). He counts it as a resounding success, and deep inside his breast, a little flame of pride flares ( _because, finally, he has done something that no other James T. Kirk can boast._ )

 

The tiny flame becomes an inferno when he faces Nero, the Romulan’s face displayed, larger than life, for all the crew to see. Jim knows that James T. Kirks are merciful ( _to an often unwise degree_ ), even though most have sordid and pain-filled pasts. They are good at bearing pain, but Jim would like to see any one of his counterparts bearing the weight of hundreds of Tarsuses, thousands of deaths, millions of disappointments.

 

So he takes a vicious pleasure in Nero’s defeat. No James T. Kirks chorus with him in his brutal satisfaction in utter victory, but Jim doesn’t care ( _one more piece of proof that he is a person, that he is unique_.)

 

He thinks that Nero can probably hear the undertone of derision in his offer of surrender ( _the careful words are shaped by thousands of experiences not his own, but the emotion is all his_ ) and it’s not surprising to him when the Romulan scornfully rejects his offer. Were he in Nero’s place, he thinks he might do the same ( _and carefully doesn’t imagine the knowledge of death settling on his crew’s faces. He’s seen it before, twice, and purposely doesn’t think about how much pride he’d sacrifice to avoid a third._ )

 

So he watches as the Romulan ship collapses in on itself, and then observes as his crew scrambles to save their ship. He gives all the correct orders in all the correct places ( _captaining is easy on the seventy-sixth time around_ ) and sighs in satisfaction as the Enterprise pulls herself out of death’s jaws. He wonders  how long this peace will last, what the Admiralty ( _an idiotic collection of people in any universe_ ) will say about his unconventional methods, and what will happen to his loyal crew.

 

But, as the Enterprise slowly limps home, Jim smiles, shelves his worries, and basks in the glow of a job well-done.


	4. Become Undisguised and Naked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first canon divergence. The format for these chapters might become longer and more traditionally story-like. However, the internal monologue will remain.

When Pike dies, Jim’s world quietly crumbles. He’d thought this life would be a good one, even though things had started to go a little pear-shaped recently. It didn’t matter, though; he didn’t need to command a starship to be happy ( _he has hundreds of lives that prove it_ ).

 

Jim knows better than anyone that death’s not as hard as it appears. It’s a world of pain, until _poof!_ , suddenly, you’re gone. Pike wasn’t in agony, not for very long ( _but_ he _will be, when Jim finds_ him.)

 

It’s easy to hate a name, even easier to hate an idea of a man, but when Jim sees a picture of the man claiming to be John Harrison, his heart stutters in his chest. He and Khan have always, in every universe, had a unique relationship. They have despised each other with the hot passion of a scorched and dying Alpha Ceti V and have loved each other with an equal fervor. ( _And yet he still cannot define him; Khan defies categorization._ ) But for all of their history ( _which exists only in Jim’s mind_ ), Kirk cannot pardon this universe’s Khan of his sins. ( _And so, like so many other times, he will hunt Khan down and kill him. It should be simple by now. He ignores the pang in his chest._ )

 

It is easier, much easier than it should be, to take Khan into custody. Of course, Jim gets a couple of good punches in there ( _for Pike’s death and for Spock’s death and for the deaths of thousands of others and for lovely words that bleed in the night_ ), but Khan takes them without resistance. His surrender is too fast, and although it could be part of some elaborate plot, Jim has a sinking suspicion about what those torpedoes really are ( _because Khan without his crew is like a star without planets – brilliant and bright, but completely, utterly alone_ ). If he’s right, he’ll have to apologize to Scotty when this is all done.

 

He is right, as it turns out. The tears Khan sheds as he explains are achingly real, and Jim has to fight back tears of his own. He’s known these frozen people in different universes and understands better than most the bonds of devotion that exist between all of them. Admiral Marcus’ actions have cut deeply into Khan, Jim can see that much. It’s painful, more painful that he could have anticipated, and he briefly wishes that he had fired those torpedoes at Khan so that this all could have disappeared in a conflagration of rocket fuel and frozen augments ( _because now he is forced to remember it all, and if he has to kill Khan later, he’s not sure if he could manage it_ ).

 

Under his breath, a small curse slips between his lips. Neither Bones and Spock react; they’ve long become accustomed to his multilingual swears.

 

But Khan’s head shoots up, and his eyes lock onto Jim’s. “Say that again,” he demands.

 

Jim blinks. “Hrot’a?” he asks, confused, and then he realizes what he’s just said. It belongs to a language that he and Khan had invented in several universes. It had been surprisingly the same between each universe with only slight variations, so Jim tends to slip into it occasionally. It’s never been invented in this universe though, of course, so Khan should think nothing of it.

 

“You remember,” Khan breathes instead, and Jim’s brain stutters to a halt. For the first time in years, the voices are silent.


	5. Meeting the Sun

“You remember,” Khan says, and Jim’s world freezes. This is so far out of the realm of possibilities that he cannot form a response. McCoy and Spock are staring at them in confusion, he realizes, but he’s floundering. In this world that he has built for himself, made out of probabilities and countless memories, he cannot process this, cannot see how this will play out ( _because the one constant, throughout each and every lifetime, is that each is separate, never bleeding into each other_ ).

 

“This is the first time,” he breathes, “you have ever….” He trails off, but Jim’s head is spinning, thousands of memories realigning. _The first time_. That means that…

 

Khan can obviously read something on his face, because he smiles humorlessly. “Yes, Jim,” he says kindly. “Every time.” Something deep and broken bleeds into his gaze, and Jim is transfixed. He’s seen this before, this look, and always chalked it up to nostalgia, trauma, PTSD, something like that. But now…

 

He’d always known Khan was complex ( _layers upon layers, masks concealing masks_ ). That’s what he’d always chalked the inconsistencies up to, like how Khan could somehow exceed in two-dimensional strategy, but fail to keep watch for enemies in three dimensions. ( _Only a beginner would make that mistake – and Khan is many things, but never a beginner._ )

 

“You…” Jim choked, the words stumbling out of his throat. “You… for me?” ( _For me, he means, for me you would…_ )

 

Khan smiles, a broken little thing. “Of course,” he replies. “How could I not?”

 

“Why?” Jim asks, voice tremulous. “Why not... Why me?” He knows that Spock and Bones are utterly thrown by this conversation, by the arrogant, strong-willed Jim Kirk they know quavering in the face of a few cryptic phrases.

 

“Oh, Jim.” The look on Khan’s face is tender, at odds with his previously cold and hostile demeanor. “Do you even know how brightly you shine?” His lips quirk up into a smirk. “Or are you blinded by your own light?” ( _“You’re a supernova,” Khan murmurs into his skin. He thinks Jim is asleep. He’s not._ )

 

“But why?” Jim forces out through gritted teeth. His masks are falling – it’s harder and harder to control himself. The voices are tearing at him – each flinging their memories of Khan at him, and it’s hard to reconcile hundreds of disparate views of the same man.

 

Khan cocks his head. “I’ve always been a man out of time, Jim,” he replies. “But you aren’t even in time – you’re a part of it.” He stops, swallows. “I let you die once, you know,” he confesses with a wry grin. “Life wasn’t much worth living after that – lost the pizazz.” He sighs at Jim’s lost look. “You change, Jim,” he finally states, “and the universe changes around you. It’s not very interesting once you’re gone.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, here is a thing - not dead!! But I should be studying for finals, so I'll go do that now. *crawls in hole*
> 
> The next chapter of When the Wind Blows Through It will happen during Christmas break. Either this chapter or the next (probs next) will be Halloween, folks, which will be awesome and I will probably get rotten fruit thrown at me for it, but whatever. The next chapter of Multitudes will happen when I have a free hour and inspiration, and I have a Criminal!Jim fic in the works at about 5,000 words, but I needs inspiration and I don't got that. :( Oh well, it'll happen. Like the Kirk/Khan just happened in this. Was not the plan, folks, it just happened. Do you think I should update the tags for that? I have the past relationship(s), but darlings, I feel like they're gonna get it on in this universe too. What do you think?


End file.
